


A Brilliant Madness

by Sadbhyl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Initiative left behind a mess that needs cleaning up. Including one sorcerer of English extraction . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brilliant Madness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published November 29, 2004

Lt. Tracy Angus had been in the Army medical corps for three years and had seen some pretty strange shit.

She’d never seen anything like the freak show that was Initiative compound Delta Fourteen.

  
A former research and training compound for some special ops group, the place had been decommissioned six weeks ago, but in usual military timeliness, it had taken this long to begin emptying the place. She hadn’t understood why a medical officer would be given command of what should have been a corps of engineers job until they got here and found the Dr. Moreau-like inhabitants of the place.

Lt. Angus stood by the heavy plexiglas door, her hands clasped behind her back as she studied the man on the other side. Hannibal Lecter he wasn’t, and considering some of the monstrosities they’d found in the last two days, the security on this guy seemed extreme. He was snugged tight into a strait jacket behind the heavy door, but he simply stood near the back wall, head lolled to the side, his dark eyes staring blankly out into space. He didn’t seem to be a threat, but the restraints made her hesitant.

“Sorry about that, sir,” PFC Johnson said, hanging up the phone. “That was Wegman and Giroux. The flamethrowers seem to be doing the trick.”

“Did you ever think you’d be hunting vampires, Johnson?”

Johnson snorted before getting reflective. “Doesn’t seem much like hunting, though, them being penned up like that.”

“Yeah,” Angus agreed sadly. “Those guys are going to need serious therapy when this is over.”

“We all will, sir, but who’s gonna believe us?”

She couldn’t argue with that. “What’s this guy’s story?”

Johnson handed her a moderately thick file. “Name’s Ethan Rayne,” he explained as she started flipping through the pages. “Incarcerated eleven months ago. Apparently he’s a sorcerer.”

Tracy looked up at Johnson over the tops of her glasses. “Are you kidding?”

“No, sir.” He flipped to the relevant pages for her. “They were running a lengthy series of tests on him for months, trying to find the root of his abilities. CAT scans, MRI, drugs, even electroshock. He came out of his last shock therapy session four months ago like you see him now. Catatonic, unresponsive. Won’t even eat. Has to be hand fed or he’d starve.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“He’s barely moved in months. The jacket’s a precaution. The whole sorcerer thing. If he can’t use his hands, he can’t work his mojo.”

“Open it up.”

Johnson swiped the keycard through the reader and the door slid back into the wall as the indicator lights changed from red to green.

The room was stale and reeked of sweat and urine. Apparently feeding him took the bulk of his nursing time, as no one had seemed to even have given him a sponge bath in weeks. He didn’t so much as shift his eyes as Angus and Johnson came into the room.

Tracy stepped around in front of him, trying to break his concentrated stare without success. “Good morning, Mr. Rayne,” she said overly loudly, hoping the volume might get a response from him. “I’m Lieutenant Angus. I’ll be taking over your care. How are you feeling today?”

He didn’t so much as blink.

“What the hell were they thinking?” she said more quietly to Johnson. “They’ve turned him into a fucking vegetable.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnson agreed, eyeing the civilian with sympathy.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do for him. We just don’t have the resources. He’s going to need private care and serious occupational therapy. And that’s just to keep from pissing himself. Does he have any family?”

“The only other name on his chart was a Rupert Giles. There’s no relationship listed, but there’s an address in Sunnydale.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Again? What the hell is it with that town? Half these specimens have it listed somewhere in their records.”

“I don’t know, sir. But it’s sure not a place I’d ever want to visit.”

“No shit.” She eyed the patient pityingly. “Well, I guess I’ll give this Giles a call and see if I can talk him into claiming this poor guy.”

“And if he won’t?”

She shrugged. “One more John Doe in the mental health system. In the meantime, get someone in here to clean him up. This is disgusting. Who’s next?”

As they turned away, neither of them noticed the dark, glittering eyes following them, or the wicked grin curling the corners of their catatonic patient’s mouth.


End file.
